Bruised and Broken
by Jack meets Eric
Summary: [5th chapter finally up!] Torment, angst and a bruised and broken soul... Jack is lost. [I still appreciate constructive criticism, as I know this is quite a heavy story!]
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Bruised and Broken  
AUTHOR: Magican  
RATING: PG-13 (angst, pain, slash)  
SUMMARY: Torment, angst and a bruised and broken soul.  
DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own a thing. If I did, the show would be called 'Jack Meets Eric' and it wouldn't be allowed to air on Disney at all…

*****

_I will pour the water down  
On the thirsty barren land  
And streams will flow  
From the dust of  
Your bruised and broken soul  
And you will grow  
Like the grass  
__Upon the fertile blades of Asia  
By the streams of living water  
You will grow  
You will grow_

*****

Eric's heart sank like a stone when he quietly entered the barren space. He stared at the dirty concrete floor, the grey concrete walls, the worn out chair, the thick plate of glass that divided the room into two perfect halves. He saw it all, but didn't.

The other side of the room was empty. 

He walked up to the shabby chair and sat down. His hands clasped the sides of the seat, leaving a sweaty shape on the black leather when he took them back into his lap. Suddenly he noticed he had been holding his breath, and let go of it with a deep, but shaky sigh. He panted slightly, and shivered over the whole of his body.

The other side of the room was still empty.

He shifted his weight a bit, as he looked at the primitive black device that had been mounted onto the glass. The other side of the room had one exactly like it, attached to the glass like a mirror image of the one on Eric's side. The safe side.

The other side of the room was still empty.

He knew he was being watched. The small black windows in the wall behind him, and the mirror ones at the other side hid at least a dozen highly trained men, ready to follow up any command that would be necessary if either one of them broke the rules. He felt very uncomfortable, and stared down at his hands, trying to keep his eyes fixed on one point. He didn't want them to know he was terrified. He tried to conceal his trembling chin with a smile, but it came out as a grimace of agony and pain.

Something moved in the other room. The doorknob slowly turned.

A man slowly stepped into the room. He was only wearing pants of an indefinable brownish color, which were obviously too big, because they were only barely being held up by a black leather belt. His upper body showed the man was severely underfed. His bones were sticking through his skin like pointy sticks, and his stomach was a hollow place were used to be flesh. His long dirty brown hair was tied together on his back, and a grayish beard covered half the man's face. Red and purple marks and streaks covered his chest, and one eye, as well as his upper lip, was black and swollen.

Eric stood up, shoved the chair backwards and stumbled up to the glass. His eyes filled with tears, as he reach out one hand to touch the cold glass. The other man also approached the dividing window, although much slower and more careful, as if he was about to break any moment. He reached out a shivering hand like an old man, as if there was no boundary and he could just grab Eric's. Instead, his fingers spread on the glass, making five perfect blurred circles underneath Eric's hand when he took his back.

His eyes showed no tears - they were filled with many other things, not visible to the men behind the glass. But Eric read it all, and his tears kept coming, trying to cry out the pain for both of them. The torment, the angst, the suffering, the hunger. He could read in his eyes the hours of torture he had been through, the countless days he had been without food, the burden of months of pure loneliness, that had almost driven him crazy. 

Eric reached out blindly for the black phone on his right, and took it of the hook. He brought it to his ear, never taking his eyes of the man at the other side. He also took the phone of the hook, and pressed it against his ear as if he wanted to absorb every single sound that could come through.

Eric whispered. "Jack…"

*****

And? What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

2.  
  
"What. what did they do to you?" Eric whispered in horror. More and more tears were streaming down his face, as his hand trailed down along the glass, trying to touch the other man's bruised body. His other could only barely keep hold of the black receiver. Pain was tearing his insides apart, causing him to shake over the whole of his body.  
  
Jack, on the other hand, stood motionless. He only looked at Eric, still not fully seeming to comprehend that he was actually there. His upper body was slightly bent forward, as if he was carrying an enormous weight. He blinked a few times blankly, then reached out his hand to touch the glass again.  
  
"E-Eric?" His voice was rasping, hardly audible through the phone. "Is. is that really you?" His gaze showed just a glimmer of hope amongst all the torment and pain.  
  
Eric quickly wiped away most of his tears and then immediately placed his hand back on the glass. "Yeah. Yeah, buddy, it's really me. I-" He wanted to say so much all at the same time, that the words got stuck in his throat. He just stared into Jack's eyes, helpless, desperately searching for the right words.  
  
"I can't believe it. You came! After all those months of praying - you finally came." Jack whispered instead. Eric could see a very faint half- smile appear underneath the thick beard, and he smiled too, through his tears, despite there wasn't really any good reason to smile.  
  
"Yes. I came. We all came." Eric paused, never taking his eyes away from Jack's. "Topanga finally made her way through all the official procedures, although it took her ages. All kinds of bad people and organizations were stalling her - but you know Topanga - when she knows where she wants to go, she'll get there. She did the best job a lawyer could do under these circumstances."  
  
Jack's smile became just a bit wider. "I know. She still that fierce, huh?" he croaked. "Even after they had that little one delivered?" Eric was surprised for a moment, not expecting Jack to remember, or at least not expecting him to bring it up.  
  
"They did. have their baby, right?" Jack's smile faded immediately, suddenly concerned when Eric didn't answer. "Nothing happened, right? Eric?" The worried tone of his voice moved him.  
  
"No. No, nothing happened. Tary's perfect. You should've seen Cory at the hospital when he heard he had a daughter! He was all screaming and jumping up and down the hallway, telling complete strangers about his gorgeous little girl-" Eric stopped, realizing he was rattling to cover up his tenseness.  
  
Jack's eyes had glazed away, but he kept the receiver still pressed against his ear. "Tary." he whispered. "Topanga and Cory. Tary." He just smiled.  
  
Suddenly he looked back at Eric again. "Are they here?"  
  
Eric nodded. "They're here - all of them. Cory, Topanga, Shawn. All waiting outside. Angela is arranging some more things somewhere in Europe, trying to contact the right people to get you out of. here." He looked around, gesturing at the concrete and the black windows with his head, while his words died away. Jack didn't speak.  
  
The lump thickened again in his throat as he almost unwillingly turned back to Jack. His eyes scrutinized his swollen face, and then strayed down the man's body again. Jack winced as he noticed Eric looking, and tried to cover up his chest with one arm in embarrassment, staring at the floor.  
  
"They. What did they. How could they." He drew a deep breath, steadied the phone. "Why?"  
  
Jack said nothing for a moment. He cleared his throat. "They thought- they think I have information, or something. They tried to. tried to make me give it to them." Jack winced almost invisibly, but Eric still noticed. "I probably shouldn't. They're still hurting me, Eric." He looked up, but there were still no tears in his eyes. Just pain, and maybe even a form of resignation. "I've been here for so long now. It seems like endless years of the same, every single day. I don't know how much longer I can keep up, Eric. I don't know-"  
  
Suddenly, a man in a green uniform entered Jack's side of the room. Jack automatically hunched as the man grabbed both of his arms, leaving Jack no other option than to drop the receiver and walk backwards with him. He just looked Eric in the eyes, forming soundless words with his mouth. The man noticed it, and roughly covered his mouth with one hand, dragging Jack with him with the other.  
  
Eric was shocked for a moment. He still held the phone in his hand, unable to move. When Jack and the uniform had almost reached the door, he finally came to his senses. He dropped the receiver and started banging on the thick glass plate.  
  
"JACK! NO! Let him go, YOU BASTARD!" He kicked away the leather chair in his rage, watching it crash into the concrete wall. When he looked back at the other side of the room, it was empty.  
  
***** 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It has been ages since I updated, but so much has happened in my life the last couple of months… I'm just beginning to get back on track. But – here I am! And not at all discouraged by negative reviews. :)  
  
*****  
  
3.  
  
As soon as Eric entered the waiting room, Cory, Topanga and Shawn jumped up from the dusty ground. But their enthusiasm soon faded, as they saw his hanging shoulders and red eyes.  
  
"And? How is he? What did he tell you? How are they treating him?" Shawn approached fast and attacked Eric with a thousand questions, but Eric couldn't answer. He swallowed several times, trying to get the lump out of his throat, and turned away his head, trying to hide his shock from his friends - but failed miserably.  
  
Cory took a step forward and gestured Shawn to back down. "I think you better ask Jack those questions yourself, Shawn," he said softly, turning his eyes towards his brother.   
  
Keeping his soft tone, he carefully laid a hand on Eric's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"   
  
Eric swallowed another time and croaked. "Bad. Very bad." He paused, taking a deep breath, looking up at his younger brother. "I- I feel like I'm dying, Cory. They… He really looks bad, you know? They beat him up, real badly. But the worst part was the look in his eyes. He has no hope left. Nothing." He looked from Cory, to Shawn, then Topanga, seeing the horror glide over their faces.  
  
Cory knew nothing else to do but to put his arms around Eric and hold him for comfort. Eric thankfully returned the embrace reaching for support, as he felt his knees buckle.   
  
Shawn started banging on the door leading to the hallway. "Hey, when is the next turn? I wanna see my brother!" There came no response. "HEY! You heard me? I wanna see my brother! NOW!" He kicked the door, almost braking it in two pieces.  
  
Topanga pulled him back and tried to calm him down. "Shawn, stop that! Violence isn't going to get us anywhere, it'll only make them less cooperative. Let's just wait until someone comes to pick the next visitor, okay?"  
  
But at the same time, the door Shawn was standing in front of swung open, hitting him hard in the face. Shawn let out a curse and stumbled backwards. Topanga caught him before he could fall, and held him on his feet. She shushed him to ease his anger, before he would attack the man that was probably their only hope.  
  
This man, in uniform, entered the crowded little space. His look of contempt glided from one person to the next. His eyes finally rested on Eric, who just freed himself from his Cory's arms. Then, the man looked to Topanga again, keeping the silence.  
  
"So, Mr. Yokarto, who will be next?" Topanga asked with her sweetest voice, masking her frustration and anger with her most charming expression. The man took an abrupt step forward, bringing his face merely inches away from Topanga's, still silent. Topanga looked him straight in the eyes.  
  
"No more!" the man suddenly barked in her face. Topanga jumped back in fear for a moment. Cory immediately stepped up to his wife and took position in front of her. He looked the other man fiercely in the eyes, raising his chin and pointing at the man.  
  
"Don't yell at my wife like that! You don't have the right-" Topanga took Cory's arm and softly pushed her struggling husband away from her. "I'll handle this, Cory," she added between her teeth. "I'm a lawyer, this is what I do." Cory took back a step, but remained close.  
  
Topanga faced the military man herself, taking a deep breath and carefully straightening her jacket. Then she looked up, seemingly unimpressed.  
  
"Mr. Yokarto. I would like to know who is next to visit Mr. Hunter," she repeated her question slowly. "As agreed, it's your choice who goes next, but you promised us-"  
  
This time, she got rudely interrupted. "No more!" the man bawled again. "You no follow rules, we no follow rules!"   
  
"What? I just-" But the man didn't let her finish.  
  
He pointed at Eric, while a triumphing smile emerged on his face. "He no follow rules we give you. He scream, he destroy!" He raised his voice with every word. "You go home now – no more! Tomorrow you come back! Maybe tomorrow!" And with those words, he saluted, turned around and marched out of the room as quick as he had entered it, leaving them all baffled.  
  
Shawn slowly turned around, breathing heavily while facing Eric. "You… what? You did WHAT? You… you… bastard!" He threw himself onto Eric so quickly that neither Cory nor Topanga could stop him in time. In pure enragement, Shawn shoved Eric up the wall, reaching for his throat and strangling him with both hands, while yelling and cursing at him. Eric tried to push him away, but was still so emotionally drained from his intense reunion with Jack, that he couldn't gain the strength to do so.  
  
He whispered, still trying to push him away weakly. "Shawn… please… I can explain… let… me go… please…" But Shawn was so furious that he was deaf for reason and continued to scream.  
  
"You BASTARD! I hate you!"  
  
Cory and Topanga, completely perplexed for a moment, finally regained their senses and dove onto the two simultaneously, pulling Shawn of a gasping Eric.  
  
"SHAWN! Stop that!" Cory screamed, grabbing his friend's collar and dragging him to the other side of the small room. He pushed him against the wall and with one hand he forced Shawn to look him in the face.  
  
"Let's NOT jump to conclusions, okay?" Shawn clenched his teeth and turned away his eyes. He grunted. "OKAY?" Cory repeated, more urgent this time. "Shawn, look at me! Give Eric a chance to explain! Who knows that… that military bastard isn't lying? Listen! Okay?"  
  
Shawn finally looked back at Cory. He nodded slowly, and gave Eric a threatening look. "Okay… Let's give it a shot… But I'm not very patient right now." He suppressed another grunt while Cory let go of his collar slowly. He straightened his shirt and sighed.  
  
"So, why did you? Huh?"  
  
***** 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is certainly not a light-hearted story, and I don't pretend that the characters are really written 'in character'. I just wanted to do something serious with Boy Meets World. If you don't like it for some reason, please let me know why, so I can work on it. I always appreciate constructive criticism!

*****

4.

"I…" Eric took another deep breath, trying to postpone the moment. "You should have _seen_ him, Shawn. I- I already told you… They beat him up. _So _badly. He is all black and blue, his ribs are poking through his skin! He's starving – Shawn, he can barely stand up straight! That wasn't _Jack_ in there, Shawn. That was a mere whisper of what Jack used to be… and I don't think…"

The tears came back again and more words got stuck in his throat. Eric, still standing straight up against the wall, slowly sank down on the dusty floor. He held his head in his hands, trying to prevent his mind from repeating the scene over and over again, making him unable to think of anything else.

Shawn couldn't say a thing, as Eric's words began to finally sink in, and his shoulders dropped slowly. He nervously ran a hand trough his hair out of old habit, standing in the middle of the room, lost.

"Eric?" Topanga said softly instead, as she took a step closer. Eric didn't look up, staring at the opposite side of the room with a distant gaze in his eyes.

"Eric, I understand how mad you were when you saw Jack like that, but…" She sighed and fumbled with her hands for a moment. "It's not that we're blaming you, Eric, but you did make it a lot harder now for us to find a way to get Jack out of here. If we don't give them our full cooperation… They see a reason in even the smallest disruption to restrain us from doing _anything_. And we can't afford that, Eric. You hear me?"

Eric looked up, focusing his blurred stare on Topanga. "What? Oh, yeah, I heard you. I'm sorry Topanga… But I just wanted those bastards to _pay_, you know. For what they did to him. You would have done the same if you'd jus _seen_ him, Shawn," he answered, turning towards Shawn.

Shawn nodded slowly, not really paying attention to what Eric was saying. He started to walk up and down the small room with small steps.

Topanga walked to her small business suitcase and took out a book, covered in black leather that seemed all worn out. She then went and sat down next to Eric, studying his red eyes for a moment, letting him come to his senses. 

"Now, Eric, can you tell me what happened exactly inside that room?" She automatically fell back in her typical role as a lawyer, instinctively trying to be as objective as possible.

Eric looked at her for a moment, trying to rearrange his memory. He tried to remember as much as possible, but the image of Jack in his awful torment kept haunting every word he said. He shook his head in frustration. It was no use. The memory loop kept playing in his head.

"Just relax," Topanga calmed him down. "We'll take it from the beginning. You entered the room. What did you see?"

Uncertainly, he began about how he had been alone inside the room at first, and how he had noticed the glass window in the middle of the room with the black receiver, the grey concrete, the dust in the corners, the black little spy windows.

Suddenly, he remembered the chair. And in a strange way, that old, ragged chair somehow triggered him. A tidal wave of memories flushed his mind, and his mouth could only barely keep up with his sudden thoughts. 

He remembered the conversation he had with Jack, word for word. He remembered every detail of the room, even the face and clothing of the guard that had dragged Jack out of it. He described Jack's body, and the desolated, tortured look in his eyes the best he could. Topanga wrote down as much as she could, not once interrupting Eric with a question. She didn't need to, and was amazed by the amount of detail Eric gave her.

Finally, Eric noticed he had reached the end of his description, and ended with his entrance in the waiting room, slightly out of breath. Topanga was still writing, and frequently adding small notes to previous pages of the report. At last, she was done and lay down her pencil quietly.

Silence kept the entire room under a spell for a moment.

"Well…" Topanga finally broke the tension. "I think we can't do more than we did today, right?" Cory nodded in agreement, and walked up to his wife with her suitcase. He helped her up, and Topanga put away the notebook carefully. Eric got up as well, shuffling to the door that was being left open by the officer. Shawn was the last to exit the waiting room. He turned around a last time. 

"We'll get you out of here, bro'. Trust me. Don't worry. Just… hang in there, okay?" he whispered, barely hearable. 

*****

A/N: Okay, this wasn't the most interesting chapter so far, but I had to continue the story with some things that had to be cleared up. Next time there'll actually be NEW things, this was just necessary. :) Okay?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I know. I'm not making much progress with the story… It's just that I have so many other things on my mind, that this story just gets lost in the middle somewhere. Sorry!

* * *

The wall in front of him was gray. He had a hunch that it might have been white before, but that must have been a long, long time ago. Even longer than the time he had spent in here. Grayness had been his world.

The floor was gray, too. Filthy and gray. Two dead rats were lying in one corner of the room, soaking in their own feces. Once upon a time, the smell they spread had made him sick to the point of throwing up, but he had quickly learned that that only made things worse. So now there were two dead rats lying in one corner, and a pool of dried-up vomit in the opposite one.

He didn't even notice the smell anymore.

When he moved around in his little cell, dust whirled around richly, causing him to cough and choke. So he stayed down, most of the time – he hadn't figured out a way to not make the dust whirl, yet. Maybe he would think about that, today.

But first, he had more important things to do. He had to think of other things. Because today, something had happened. _Eric had come_. After all the endless, countless nights of praying and begging, Eric had finally come. When he had reckoned he wouldn't come anymore, Eric did. He did! It had been bliss. And at the same time, it had been hell.

Hell, because he had seen the hurt in Eric's eyes. The pain, the anger, the frustration and the terror he had long forgotten how to feel… Hell, because he had seen his own reflection in Eric's eyes. The frayed body, nothing more than a skinny doll, all bruised and broken… Hell, because he hadn't had the opportunity to tell him what he had wanted to say for a long time now. At least, not out loud. Hell, because the glass that had separated them had made it painfully clear that they could never reach each other. _So _close together, but still a world of space between them.

It had been hell for a thousand reasons. And still, it was the bliss that overruled all other thoughts in his mind. To see him again, to see him be healthy and well… That face, that he remembered so well because it was with him in his dreams every night. To know that he was still out there, at this moment, maybe not even more than a few miles away, made his heart jump. He could hear the pounding of his heart and the rush of his blood in his ears. Normally, that sound made him nervous, uncomfortable even – knowing that he was still alive for yet another moment. But today, he welcomed the sound with pleasure. Because it meant another moment closer to seeing Eric again.

To be able to tell him everything that had happened… He knew Eric was the only one who would _really_ listen to him. And so, he would tell him. Everything.

He would tell him everything from the moment things had gone wrong. Because it had been right once, before all this. The Peace Corps had been one great experience, and he had felt like helping the people he met was like his… destiny. Together with Rachel and the other members of the group, he achieved a lot in the little village he was being stationed in. They built new houses, renewed the town's school and church. They built a small store, which was being supplied with food and other products every two weeks. They were even building the town's first hospital, and both the native people and the Peace Corps volunteers were delighted about the project. Doctors were being called and interviewed, medicines had already been flown in. They felt like a miracle was happening right underneath their very hands. Jack had been so proud of those people, and for maybe the first time in his life, he had been truly proud of himself as well.

But that's when things went terribly wrong.

One day, early in the morning, Jack woke up noticing an unusual amount of noise outside. He knew that that night there were going to be some festivities due to the finishing of the hospital's first operating theatre, so maybe some people were already preparing the village – maybe putting up decorations or something. Just as he went back to bed - trying to get another hour of sleep before his first constructing shift began - the noise grew even louder. Voices were coming through, and they sounded more anxious than happy. Concerned, he got up a second time and approached the small window at the front of the house of his foster family.

As he put aside the jute curtain, his eyes grew wide and his heart started racing in his chest. The sound Jack thought was just noise, suddenly transformed to it's real shape and terrifying shrieks reached his ears. With one fluent movement, without thinking, he was already at the door and pulled it wide open. The full view of the chaos outside made his knees buckle and his stomach turn. He had to clasp both sides of the door entrance to make sure not to fall to the ground. Only barely keeping himself up, he stumbled forward through the mass of people running around, while gasping for air. Soon, his bare feet reached the first red pool. It shimmered in the early sunlight.

A man suddenly appeared at his right side and clutched his shirt. His face and hands were smeared with blood and mud. His eyes were big and reddish, with just little black dots where his pupils should be. He cried something in his own language, but it came out so horribly twisted that Jack couldn't understand what he was saying. Halfway down the second sentence, a gulf of blood broke off his words and the man sank to the ground without making another sound. Jack looked down at the man in horror, reaching out an uncertain hand, not knowing what to do. He looked up again, his attention drawn by another scream. Among the people that were lying, stumbling, running around, he recognized a redheaded woman.

Rachel.

Her tall, strong body was half lying, half hanging in the mudded red dirt. Her hands were tied together with some string, as well as her feet. She was hanging from a small tree someone had tied her to. A rag was lying next to her knees on the ground, covered with blood. As well was her mouth. Jack could see her tooth flesh was bleeding badly, and some teeth were missing. She was the one who had screamed. But although her body seemed broken, she still had that fire in her eyes, and she still held her head up high. Her eyes spoke of incredible pain though. Noticing her friend, she panicked. She screamed again.

"JACK! NO! GO BACK!"

Before he could take a step, something heavy hit him in his back. An excruciating pain spread through his body within a second, and he fell flat on his stomach. His head hit the ground hard and he felt his wrist crack as he tried to reduce the force of the impact. Dizzy from the smack in his back and his fall, he slowly rolled onto his back, trying to see who had hit him. It was a face masked with black cloth, and the man held a rifle in his right hand, pointing it loosely at Jack's forehead. Even with all the noise, the screaming and crying, he clearly heard what the man said.

"You know what we don't. You'll come with us." Around that time, he had lost consciousness.

He reckoned it was later that day when he had woken up again. Black clouds were gliding along the edges of his sight, but his head was clear enough to make sense of what he saw. He realized it was very important to absorb every single detail, to try to remember as many things as he could if he would live to pass them on. From his lying position, he saw only barren land. Stone, sand and a single tree now and then passed by him. That wasn't going to help him. Instead, he decided to focus on the vehicle he was being transported with. It seemed to be a truck of some kind, as he could hear the noise from an engine nearby. His back hurt with every bump the truck encountered, although he felt that he was lying on something soft that absorbed some of the shocks. When he tried to roll over to his stomach, he looked right into the eyes of another man, lying next to him. Only, these eyes were dead.

Horrified by the dead eyes, Jack tried to roll over as fast as he could, trying to get away from that sight. But suddenly, he felt a hand grabbing his shirt and pulling him up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Paralyzed by the increasing pain in his back, Jack was unable to answer. He felt a distant sense of fear, but he was too distracted by the pain to pay much attention to it.

He looked up to the man, but the black blur was becoming too dense to distinguish any facial features. He weakly raised a hand, trying to gesture that he wasn't going anywhere. His wrist didn't let him though, and numbed by the extra pain from his broken wrist, Jack lost consciousness again.

The next time he regained consciousness, he was lying on the hard ground, face down. His mouth was full of sand, and breathing was hard. He slowly turned his head around and tried to take a deep breath, while coughing out the sand at the same time. His body shook heavily with every cough, and every breath caused a concerning squeaking sound in his throat. He felt pain over the whole of his body now, his back and wrist still hurting him the most. After the heavy coughing had subsided a bit, Jack lay down motionless, trying not to attract any attention. Unfortunately, that had already happened.

"Get up!" a voice spoke above him. When he didn't react, something hard hit him in his ribs, causing another rush of coughs and an excruciating pain in both his back and side.

"I said – get up!" Slowly, as too avoid as much pain as he could, Jack tried to bring himself up with his good hand. While doing that, he noticed that the wrist of his other hand had an hideous black color and that it was twice as thick as normal. He quickly shut his eyes and worked himself up to a kneeling position, trying to ignore the pain. He felt the heat of the sun burning on his shoulders. That's when he noticed that he was almost naked. He quickly inspected his hips with his good hand, and came to the conclusion that he was wearing only his boxer shorts.

Meanwhile, his thoughts finally came together. What was he doing here? Where was he at? Who were the man that took him? And why? Why was he here? Why was he naked?

But there wasn't any time for more questions, because the man grabbed his arm with a tight grip and dragged him a few meters to the right, tearing the flesh off Jack's knees. The new stings just added to the existing pain, numbing his body even further. The man threw him down hard and kicked him in the side a few times more. He didn't feel it anymore.

Jack, with his eyes still closed, heard how several different men positioned themselves around him. At that point, he knew what was coming. A man kneeled beside him, and a voice hissed something in his ear.

"Now boy, when we're done with you, you'll tell us all we need. I promise."

Jack heard someone unbuckle his belt. That's when he shut himself off. The only thing he heard for the next hours, was the rasping sound of his own breathing.

And now, he didn't feel like Jack anymore. The horror at the village had taken the last of his innocence. The trip down the prison had taken his dignity. And finally, they had beaten and tortured _Jack _out of him.

The only one who was able to find the real Jack again, was Eric. And he was finally here.

_Right?_

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think? Does this explain anything?


End file.
